musician.educator.musicologist

on Our Week In Italy

Added on by Taylor Smith.

We got back from Italy yesterday. It was nice to have another mini “vacation.”1 (I started writing this almost a month before publishing … sorry for the weird timeline.)

A Five-Hour-Delayed Flight

Things got off to a pretty rough start. We hurried to the Santander airport on Monday morning to find that our flight was delayed. In fact, it wasn’t just delayed, it had been re-routed to a nearby airport. So, they loaded all of us onto buses and drove us to an airport almost two hours away. When all was said and done, we made it to Rome safely, but we were almost five hours behind schedule!

Our initial plan was to drive from Rome to Pisa (and then to Florence) after we landed. But, since we were so far behind our schedule, we had to skip Pisa and drive straight for Florence.2

Driving in Italy

Driving in Italy was stressful. So many scooters to try to avoid! And, Italian drivers treat the lane markers on the road as suggestions, which can get pretty scary if you’re not used to it. Things got easier the longer I drove—though we also got farther outside the city the farther we went—but I still felt nervous every time I got behind the wheel. Luckily, we basically drove from Rome to Florence and then left the car parked until we left Florence; then, we drove to Pisa, parked for a few hours, and drove to Rome where we parked long-term again (only moving the car one time, for about two minutes).

Florence

I think I have heard my wife talk about wanting to visit Florence someday more than just about any other place. So, she was really excited to get out and see the city as soon as possible.3 But, since we arrived so late, all we could do was climb in bed and try to make plans for the following day.

Duomo

Florence’s central cathedral is likely its most famous landmark. It is certainly the thing I knew the most about before visiting the city. (Well, that and Michelangelo’s David, of course.) The cathedral’s massive dome dominates the skyline in nearly every photograph of the city. We were probably half a mile away when we spotted the dome. As we got closer, we could see just how big it is.

We were especially shocked to see:

  1. How big the cathedral itself is, and

  2. How colorful and ornate the cathedral is on the outside.

I have seen and been inside several European cathedrals, some of them on the more famous side of spectrum (Chartres, Köln, Notre Dame [de Paris … outside only], Strasbourg, and others) and most of these have a lot in common; Florence is very different from these (in a good way!). There is no “spire” and there is a noticeable lack of stained glass windows. These things tend to feature pretty prominently in French gothic cathedrals, but not in Italy, I have learned. The outside of the cathedral is made of a striking combination of white and green marble arranged in geometric patterns and stripes. Of course, the large dome is the most striking—and most famous—part of the cathedral; I knew it was big, but I didn’t know it was that big. You can actually climb up inside the dome (since the secret to its construction is that it is actually two domes), but the tickets sell out weeks in advance if not more, and we didn’t know to look into it ahead of time.

Art Museums (Uffizi and Accademia Galleries)

Florence was essentially the birthplace of the Renaissance, and as a result, the place is bursting at the seams with late-Medieval–early-Baroque art. We visited both of the city’s most famed art museums, the Uffizi Gallery and the Accademia Gallery.

We first visited the Uffizi Gallery, which was one of the first public art galleries in the world. The crowd inside was close to unbearable at times, but we did find some respite here and there. The museum is organized in a more or less chronological fashion, which is nice; some of the first things you see are works by Giotto and the last things are by Caravaggio.4 I wish I had been paying attention a bit more to the organization, and therefore the subtle changes in style over the length of the visit. Instead, I was annoyed by the size of the crowd and the number of “professional” tour guides with large groups in tow that kind of ruin the whole experience for everyone.

We visited the Accademia Gallery on the following day. The crowd outside was terrible, but once we were inside it wasn’t as bad as we were expecting. Unfortunately, getting tickets to this museum more or less requires that you buy them from a third party; the tickets go on sale thirty days ahead of time and sell out within seconds, only then to pop up on sometimes-shady-looking third-party websites with a markup. So, we (like everyone else, I assume) had to get tickets this way, which only makes the crowd outside worse. An awesome surprise for us was the museum’s musical instrument collection! It was in a small wing just after the entrance, but I am glad we made that detour!

The Accademia Gallery’s most prized and famous work is Michelangelo’s “David.” One thing that is really cool about how they have it displayed (it’s huge, buy the way) is the series of in-progress sculptures by Michelangelo. For me, this was a great “education” on how the process of sculpting in marble world in practice and how Michelangelo himself worked. You can see the markings of his sculpting tools and his “order of operations,” so to speak. I am far from an expert in sculpting, but I found these in-progress works fascinating.

Like I said, “David” is bigger than most people probably assume. It is certainly bigger than I had assumed (save the fact that there is a replica in the courtyard in central Florence, which I had already seen). Apparently, the initial plan was for the sculpture to sit high up in the air near the cathedral; we were never meant to see it from the up-close angles that we do. This is why David’s hands, feet, and head are a little out of proportion (too big) were actually an effort of Michelangelo’s part to play with perspective a bit; from that distance these features would look correctly proportioned This was a revelation to me!

Pisa

After a few days in Florence, we drove to Pisa on our way to Rome. We had originally planned on visiting Pisa before Florence, but our several-hour delay in getting out of Spain made it so we had to rearrange our plans.

Of course, the most famous thing in Pisa is its so called “leaning tower.” It’s a little tricky to capture the “lean” in photographs due to the the problem of single-point perspective when you turn your camera lens upward. I think I got a pretty good one, here, though.

Perhaps more so than the tower, I thought Pisa’s cathedral was pretty impressive. It’s technically “gothic,” like Florence, but doesn’t resemble the “gothic” that I learned about in my French classes in college (again, like Florence). The outside of the cathedral is less striking than Florence, though this is not to say that it isn’t interesting looking or beautiful in its own right. Inside the cathedral, the nave is lined with striped marble archways which are almost reminiscent of a mosque. Behind the altar is a huge dome with a gorgeous paining and gold-leaf piece that is among the most beautiful I have seen.

Rome

Rome probably deserves its own post. Rome probably deserves its own book.5 But, I don’t have that kind of time, despite the fact that I am on sabbatical. (I am already publishing this a full week later than I had hoped.)

We then drove from our short stay in Pisa to Rome. We arrived late at night, so we didn’t see any of the city until the following morning. We had tickets/plans for our second and third days in Rome, but for this first day we just kind of wandered around, looking for all of the more famous sites, etc.

Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, Pantheon

We first stopped by the Trevi Fountain. I thought this was far too crowded and kind of underwhelming. But, “when in Rome,” as they say.

We climbed the Spanish Steps, which I was expecting to be a much bigger ordeal than it ended up being. The view from the top is quite nice. For some reason, though, I had it in my head that this was a really grueling climb and that reaching the top was not for the faint of heart; it wasn’t that big of a deal (which probably says more about my background knowledge of Rome’s more famous sites than it does about the Spanish Steps themselves.)

Next, we found our way to the Pantheon. One thing I learned is that the top of the dome of the Pantheon is actually open, like a skylight. This lets quite a lot of natural light into the building and brigs back memories of when the place was a pagan temple of sorts … probably something having to do with a “sun god” or something. I have no idea if the hole in the top is part of the original design or not, but this what came to mind for me.

Castel Sant’Angelo

I think the highlight of the day was Castel Sant’Angelo. The building itself was originally a mausoleum for emperor Hadrian which was then converted into various different things over time. It was interesting to see the various “layers” of history through the building. The best part, though, is the view from the top! The building stands directly in front of Vatican City and you can see most of Rome from the top. It was worth the cost of admission and extra time to get to see the view!

The Vatican

On our final day in Italy we spent the day in Vatican City. We had no idea how long it would take to get into St. Peter’s Basilica, so we got a fairly early start, wanting to make sure we had enough time before our appointment at the Vatican Museums. Despite the length of the line to enter the basilica, the wait actually wasn’t too bad; the line moved pretty quickly and we were inside well within an hour.

St. Peter’s Basilica

Of course, the most prominent landmark in Vatican City is St. Peter’s Basilica and St. Peter’s Square, and it’s easy to see why given the size and proportionality of the place!

I didn’t realize that Michelangelo’s “Pieta” was right inside the entrance, but right after we walked inside, there it was off to the side!

The entire building is a masterclass in impressiveness. There is something interesting and/or beautiful around just about every corner. And, despite the size of the crowd, we were able to get pretty close to most of the things we wanted to see.

After we had wandered through the basilica for quite a while, we decided to see what it would take to climb up the dome. We decided the cost (both financial and physical) was worth it, so my wife and I climbed all 500+ steps to the top of the dome and were able to get some incredible views!

The Vatican Museums

Our tickets for the Vatican Museums were for later in the evening so we found some food near the entrance to Vatican City and did some souvenir shopping while we waited for our tickets to be valid. We mailed a postcard from the Vatican’s main post office, which was kind of fun.

The Vatican Museums is a a huge complex of buildings that includes a labyrinth of exhibits and the Sistine Chapel. We wanted to make sure we had enough time in the Sistine Chapel so we made our way there first, not realizing that the museum is set up in such a way that you must walk through the entire museum in order to get to the Sistine Chapel … thus, we rushed through the whole museum in order to get to the Sistine Chapel. Then, after we saw the chapel, we wanted to go back and see the “rest” of the museum, so we basically re-traced our steps and went through the museum a second time, but we stopped to look at things this time around.

You aren’t allowed to take photographs inside the Sistine Chapel, so I have no photographic evidence that I was there. The chapel was both bigger and smaller than I had imagined. It was bigger in that the ceiling was higher than I thought but the actual area of the chapel itself was smaller. The ceiling is amazing, of course! One of the first in-depth non-fiction books I remember reading as a young adult was Ross King’s Michelangelo And The Pope’s Ceiling; I had forgotten many of the more intricate details, but seeing the ceiling in person jogged my memory for many of them.

Sign Off

There is so much more I could say about our trip to Italy. There are countless details I am forgetting and/or simply don’t have the times or space to write about. Too often I fall into the trap of wanting stuff to be “right” before I move on to the next thing, no matter how overdue the current yet-to-be-right thing is. I don’t want to get bogged down in that, here. It has already been almost a month since this trip and I have several other things I want to write about but haven’t (partly because I have been waiting to finish this post). So, I am going to simply leave this post here and move on to the next thing. (Although, who knows how long it’ll be before anyone sees any evidence that I have moved on.)

  1. I say “vacation” because everything about the last two months and the next two months probably qualifies as a “vacation.” ↩︎

  2. I know I said I liked to use local names/spellings for things in my recent post about València, but to do that here feels really pretentious. So, I won’t be saying “Italia” or “Firenze” or “Roma.” It just feels like too much, here. I am still learning. ↩︎

  3. As was I, but probably to a lesser extent. ↩︎

  4. Understandably, most of the works in the museum are by Italian painters. ↩︎

  5. Of which there are several, I know. (As there are several about Florence and possibly Pisa as well.) ↩︎

a Last-Minute Trip to London

Added on by Taylor Smith.

I still have to put something up here about our week in Italy. I’ve been chipping away at a post, but it’s taking me longer than I would like. Stay tuned.

In other exciting news, my wife decided that we should take a very last-minute (as in we planned it yesterday) trip to London. So, I am in London tonight and tomorrow night. It will be a whirlwind of a trip, trying to cram in as much as possible, but I think it will be fun. Our son (14) is especially excited, which is an achievement in and of itself!

an (Upcoming) Week in Italy

Added on by Taylor Smith.

Among other things, part of the point of living here in Spain was the ease this would give us to travel around Europe during this time off. Hence our trip down to València a few weeks ago.

With that as part of the goal, we booked flights to Rome before we got here, knowing that this was for sure something we wanted to do. My wife and I have been to Europe four times now; once individually before we knew each other, once as a couple in 2019, once with the kids in 2021, and this trip. But, neither of us have been to Italy on any of these trips.1 All of this being said, the point is: we are leaving for Rome tomorrow!

Once we get there we are immediately driving to Pisa then Florence. We will stay in Florence for three days then drive back to Rome where we will spend three more days. We are all pretty excited. My wife has always wanted to see Florence and I am glad I get to take her there.

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  1. Between the two of us we have been to the U.K., The Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Spain, Germany, Austria, Czechia, Slovakia, Poland, and Hungary. ↩︎

on A Month in Spain

Added on by Taylor Smith.

We have been living in Spain for over a month, now. The time has gone by really quickly. There is still so much I need to see and do right here in Santander/Cantabria, let alone other, farther-flung places. I already feel like I am running out of time.

My Spanish isn’t really much better than it was when we arrived. I have gotten a tiny but better at anticipating what someone might be say, and therefore can make better guesses as to what they are saying, but I am nowhere near being able to understand much in real time. When it comes to speaking, I am not doing so well there, either. I get tongue tied very quickly and am afraid to say too much as I probably won’t be able to understand any sort of follow up. I really don’t like having to resort to “No hablo español” so quickly, but I also simply don’t have enough background or experience with Spanish to converse in any way. I find myself slipping into trying to speak French sometimes, which, of course, isn’t helpful for anyone, really. I am trying to get better. I am trying to not just barge into places and expect someone to speak English; most “conversations” still end with either everyone a little confused or a Spaniard speaking English.1

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  1. Quite often people under about 35 seem to speak English fairly well. With folks older than that, it’s a gamble. I am trying to not rely on that. I promise. ↩︎

on A Trip to Bilbao

Added on by Taylor Smith.

Bilbao is the closest “big city” to us. Bilbao is the largest city in Northern Spain, one of the biggest cities on the Atlantic coast of Europe. It’s not a huge city (only 350,000 in the city proper, about 1,000,000 in the metro area), but it’s the biggest thing close to us.

Basque Country

Bilbao is essentially the “capital” of Basque Country. The Basques are a group of people who live in northern Spain and southern France. They are an ethnic (and linguistic) group distinct from the rest of Europe. In fact, the exact history and evolution of the Basques and their language remains a bit of a mystery. It’s a pretty fascinating “story” if you want to dive into it.

Language and Politics

The Basque language is an isolate. It is unrelated to any other known language. Of course, this is very strange in general, more so on a continent full of language cousins. Similar to when we were in València, many signs and place names are written in both Spanish and Basque. The Basque name for the city is Bilbo; the name of the language in Basque is Euskara. Bilbao is the capital of the province of Vizcaya (Bizkaia in Basque), which is roughly synonymous with the Spanish portion of “Basque Country.”

When we saw some signs written in just Basque, we got a few clues as to how pronunciation works. For example, the word for chocolate is txocolate (pronounced the same was as in Spanish [chock-oh-law-tay]). Similarly, churro is txurro.

The Basque flag.

A bit of a political provocation.

There is a pretty strong Basque Nationalist sentiment among the community. These folks down’t really want to be part of Spain; they don’t identify as Spanish, nor do they really relate to the rest of the country all that well. There is a similar sentiment amongst the Catalonians in Barcelona. Having not been to Barcelona, I can’t rate how strong either of these sentiments is in comparison to the other, but the Basque “flavor” was definitely pretty strong in Bilbao.

Guggenheim

If Bilbao is famous for anything, it is probably the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao on the bank of the Nervion River. The building was designed by Frank Gehry (who also designed the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles.) It’s a breathtaking building with sweeping metallic-colored walls that seem to defy gravity.

Richard Serra

One of the museum’s most impressive pieces is “Matter of Time” by Richard Serra. The piece(s) takes up an entire wing of the museum. It is made of several huge pieces of rust-colored steel arranged into shapes; most of them are arranged so you can walk through them, experiencing them in every dimension. I would estimate the pieces are about 25 feet tall with each piece of steel about 4 inches thick. These are enormous and imposing sculptures, but their arrangement and shape are inviting, as if to say “Please explore.”

Missing Picasso

The museum has an entire floor dedicated to Pablo Picasso’s sculptures, but the exhibit didn’t open until September 29 … three days after we were there.

Funicular

My wife has a funny fascination with funiculars. I also have to admit that they are pretty cool. She always wants to see if a city has one, and if it does, we have to ride it.1 Bilbao’s funicular is pretty cool. It is definitely one of the longer ones we have ever ridden.2 The view from the top is spectacular! It is hard to capture the view in photographs, but here is a try:

Casco Viejo

Bilbao isn’t quite as old as some of the other places we have visited. It was founded in 1300.3 The old section of town, “casco viejo,” has a lot fo great stuff to see and hear as well. We found a cool Basque restaurant. We visited the central basilica and cathedrals.

Returning to Bilbao

We have some family coming to visit in late-October and early-November. They are flying into Bilbao. We are planning to spend another day or two in the city when they arrive. There is a lot we didn’t see, partly because we knew we would be coming back (and partly because we just ran out of time). I already have ideas about what we should see/do next time, both things to repeat and new things to see/do.

  1. There is a funicular here in Santander. Even better: it’s free! ↩︎

  2. L.A.’s “Angels Flight” is probably the shortest. ↩︎

  3. Which still makes it really old, just not quite as old as València or Santander. ↩︎

on A Few Days in València

Added on by Taylor Smith.

About three weeks ago, the woman with whom we arranged the home exchange told us that her mom had an apartment in València1 that was currently empty and “ready for us” to visit. Shortly thereafter we started (well, my wife started) looking into flights and other travel arrangements to get down there.

On September 14, we flew from Santander to València. It was a short, hourlong flight.

Before the opportunity presented itself, we didn’t really know all that much about València (pronounced more like bah-len-thee-ah by those who live there). It turns out, there is a lot to see and do down there!

Language

One of the first things I learned was that many of the people in València speak not Spanish but Valencian (essentially a version of Catalan, a language spoken in nearby Catalonia). Actually, that’s not quite accurate; they speak Spanish, but they also speak Valencian, especially at home and amongst close friends. Due to recent political movements, the area now uses Valencian on most street signs, for place names, and in lots of other very conspicuous places. Of course, this made my efforts at trying to learn Spanish all the more confused … “What is a ‘palau?’” “Why does everything say ‘carrer?’” “Why do they keep spelling it ‘ciutat?’” etc.

I knew that they don’t really speak Spanish (or, again, only Spanish) in Barcelona, but I didn’t know this practice extended outside of Catalonia “proper.” But, I found out that the Catalan language (or “Valencian” in this case) extends into much of the neighboring provinces as well; it’s no accident that the Valencian flag and the Catalonian flag are so similar.

Ciutat de les Arts i Ciènces

One of València’s crowning “jewels” is an area called Ciutat de les Arts i Ciènces (“City of Arts and Sciences”) which is a complex of museums and parks featuring ultra-modern architecture. One of the attractions is L’Oceanogràfic, which houses the largest aquarium in Europe. I thought it was a bit like a cross between Sea World and the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Another of the points of interest is the Museu de les Ciènces. This is, as the name implies, a science museum. To be honest, I didn’t find this one all that great aside from the awesome architecture. The exhibits weren’t all that engaging, at least for my taste. The building itself is pretty incredible, though. Supposedly, the building is supposed to resemble a whale skeleton.2 We also visited a building called L’Hemisfèric which is an IMAX theater and planetarium. Again, the building itself is quite stunning!

Unfortunately, we didn’t visit the Palau de les Arts. This is an opera house and concert venue. I don’t have any good excuses as to why we skipped out on this one other than that I don’t think there were any events happening at the time we were there and that we were completely exhausted after all of the other events and attractions.3

Ciutat Vella

I am totally a sucker for wandering around old neighborhoods amongst centuries-old churches. Luckily, València has lots of this. Like most of these old European cities, València has an area of town that was once the core of the medieval city, the “old town” or ciutat vella.We spent the majority of our time in this area as there were so many cool things to see.4

The Cathedral and THE Holy Grail

The central cathedral in València houses what they claim to be the Holy Grail, the same one that Indiana Jones spent all that time looking for in The Last Crusade. It turns out, all he needed to do was visit this cathedral in València. The trouble is, there are at least twenty other the Holy Grails scattered across Europe. Supposedly, this one is likely a cup from about the right timeframe, but everything else around the story is pretty dubious, of course. Still, it’s kind of cool to say that you have seen what might be the Holy Grail.

The cathedral itself is a mix of late-Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, and Neo-Classical styles. Each of these styles is a little like a time capsule showing what was considered “stylish” at each point in the cathedral’s history.

Lonja de la Seda

Back in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, València was one of the main stops along the silk trading routes. As such, the city erected a building specifically for trading silk called the Lonja de la Seda (or the “silk exchange”). The building was built between 1482 and 1533.

Porta de Serrano

The city was once surrounded by a wall with a series of twelve gates that allowed access into the city. Some of these “gates” and portions of the wall are still standing. It was cool to climb all the way to the top of the towers and look down on the old city.

Parroquia de San Nicolás

One of the most jaw-dropping churches in València is the Parroquia de San Nicolás. This church is sometimes called “the Sistine Chapel of València,” and once you walk inside you can immediately see why. Architecturally, the church was built in the Gothic style, but they later—sometime in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—decided to update it to a Baroque style. They covered nearly every inch in dramatic frescos and gold leaf. It’s almost overwhelming to see in person!

There is probably a lot more to say, but I don’t want that to keep me from posting this, so I’ll leave it here (and hope to come back with those other things someday.)

  1. I know it might come across as a little pretentious, but I am going to try to use local names and spellings for stuff whenever possible. Hence the “è” in València and other non-standard (in English) spellings. I think it is respectful to at least try to let the locals have the final say in the way we spell and say things. ↩︎

  2. No idea why. ↩︎

  3. Also, I am not a fan of opera really at all. I know I am “supposed to be,” but I am just not. ↩︎

  4. My fourteen-year-old son might take issue with me saying there were a lot of “cool things to see” in this part of town. ↩︎

on A Quick Trip to Saltillana del Mar

Added on by Taylor Smith.

Most of the touristy books about what to see and do in Spain don’t have much to say about Cantabria (the province where we live). It’s a little off the beaten path and isn’t home to the biggest cities, the most exciting attractions, or the most “interesting” points of interest. It is a beautiful province, so it’s a shame that it gets a bit flubbed by Lonely Planet, Rick Steves, etc. But, this means there are fewer tourists to navigate around, which is nice.

When these books do mention Cantabria, one of the places they almost always mention is a town called Santillana de Mar. Santillana del Mar is an old Medieval village that is mostly intact with its original walls and streets. It’s very charming and is very much along the lines of what one might picture as a Medieval Spanish village.

A highlight of the town is its central church, which was built in the twelfth century, most of which is still intact.

Back on September 2 we took a short drive to visit Santillana del Mar. Perhaps due to its presence in the touristy books, we were met with a larger-than-expected crowd for a semi-rainy day. Our time in the town was great, so I shouldn’t really complain about any of it; I was just a little surprised at the crowd size.

I will share some nice photos, below (I was able to strategically take these photos sans other tourists):

on My Sabbatical Project

Added on by Taylor Smith.

As I mentioned earlier, I am on sabbatical right now. It’s pretty great. Along with the sabbatical comes a “commitment,” of sorts, to work on a large-scale project. This is the reason the college is giving me this time off; the project is meant to be their “return on investment” in giving me this semester off. In order to be granted a sabbatical, one must submit an application outlining all of the reasons why you need one, with the titular “project” being the main point of why you need the time off.

To be perfectly honest, I just wanted/needed the break that comes with a sabbatical, so I was willing to put forward whatever proposal would get me there. Before applying, I didn’t have some grand plan of something I had always wanted to work on, some book to write, or some groundbreaking research I was dying to put forth. Other than being totally burnt out, I didn’t have an aching-in-my-bones reason for needing a sabbatical. (Which isn’t to say that feeling burnt out isn’t a good enough reason, or something I wasn’t feeling in my bones … All I mean is that I wasn’t feeling an itch to work on some big project. My reason(s) for wanting/needing a sabbatical were purely because I was starting to hate my job (and, by extension, everyone/everything).)

(Automatic) Music Technology (for the People)

One of my main teaching responsibilities is (usually) to teach a sequence of courses on music technology. And, in this realm, I am always trying make my class(es) about getting students comfortable with working with music tech in realistic, down-to-earth ways. Sure, it’s kind of cool to get your hands on a $10,000 microphone or a studio worth $500,000, but that’s not a realistic scenario for the overwhelming majority of us. Most of us will, when we get the chance at all, probably have access to much more modest setups; we’ll use “recording studios” in bedrooms and garages and we’ll use $200 and $300 mics. Thus, educationally, I try to present the technology and its capabilities through this framework … something that you really can “do yourself.”

With this thinking in mind, I set down to make a sabbatical proposal toward this end. (Because, again, I really needed this sabbatical for personal, mental health reasons, and the only way to get one is to convince the committee that your project is something worth supporting.)

Impulse Responses (for the People)

One of the cooler directions music technology has taken over the past few years is the development of what is essentially a create-your-own plugins scheme. One of these new-fangled DIY abilities in music tech revolves around a pretty complex process called a “convolution reverb” which uses some tech called an “impulse response.” Without going into a bunch of unnecessary detail, these convolution reverbs and impulse responses are a way of digitally recreating actual acoustical spaces. Think of the big echo from inside Notre Dame Cathedral and using computer algorithms to measure and capture the ways sound bounces around inside the cathedral, then translating that information into a computer plugin; theoretically, you could then make someone’s bedroom recording sound like it was made inside Notre Dame … no trip to Paris required.

Creating an impulse response file is actually really easy. It doesn’t take that much equipment or time.

So, I decided to commit to creating a series of impulse responses / reverb plugins for my sabbatical project. I have basically three goals:

  1. Get approval by the Sabbatical Leave Committee (✔)

  2. Create a series of detailed impulse responses compiled into a library

  3. Use this experience to add a section to my music tech class(es) on creating your own impulse responses / reverb plugins

It might all sound kind of complicated, but I assure you it’s actually pretty simple. I don’t expect the actual creation of these “plugins” to take more than a few hours each. I committed to make eight of these plugins, so none of this will take much more than a week’s worth of work at the most. (Don’t tell the college that my I-need-an-entire-semester-to-do-this project might really only take a few days.)

So, at some point in the next year, you’ll probably hear from me again telling you about where you can find these new-fangled sabbatical-funding-supported reverb plugins. But, I am not in a very big hurry to get started. At the moment—still less than a month into this sabbatical—I am just enjoying the time I have to decompress for a bit.

on Timing My Sabbatical

Added on by Taylor Smith.

My sabbatical came about through an application (and subsequent approval) during the 2022–2023 school year. I applied once before, several years ago, and didn’t get the sabbatical—something for which I am still harboring feeling of bitterness and angst—but this time everything went through!

The timing of this sabbatical was pretty crucial, so I was extra excited to have it all work out. My daughter graduated from high school in June and my son finished middle school in June. This put both of them at transition points this semester; my daughter into college and my son into high school. All of this seemed like the exactly perfect time to try something new (like move to a new country).

College For My Daughter

My daughter decided, against all of our urgings, to start her first semester of college rather than join us on this trip. In August, she started her first semester at Southern Virginia University. She was adamant that she did not want to come with us.1 So far, she seems to be doing well. It was difficult leaving her, especially knowing that there is very little we can do to help her if she needs it. She cried. Her mom cried. I cried. But, to be honest, we all need some space from one another at this point in our relationship, so I think everyone is probably better off with things as they are.

High School For My Son

Seeing that he is only fourteen, my son didn’t really have the option of staying behind in the U.S. But, since he would have been starting at a new school at home, the transition to doing school a “new way” (i.e. through an online, independent study program) seemed perfectly timed.2

Burnout For Me

And then there’s me, who has been getting closer and closer to complete burnout for several years now. Sabbaticals are supposed to give you a chance to “refresh” yourself from the sometimes-grueling job of working in academia. They are also supposed to give you time to work on something that you normally can’t due to your typical day-to-day. Some typical things that come to mind are writing books, finishing some high-level coursework, contributing to some big research project(s), etc. But, first, a sabbatical is supposed to be a “sabbath” from your usual stuff ... hence the name.

And, let me tell you, do I ever need a break! I can’t really relate how close to the bone I feel I’ve been recently. I know a lot of people think teachers (and college professors even more so) have a pretty cushy job, but I promise you that the emotional and psychological toll can be pretty high (and definitely has been for me).

I haven’t been away long enough to say if I am feeling any less of the burnout, etc., yet, but I am enjoying the feeling of having an extended summer break if nothing else.

Politics

One of the biggest sources of my feelings of burnout come from the intense political environment where I find myself. I will probably have more to say about this later, but suffice it to say that I am finding myself feeling less and less “at home” on campus and in “the academy,” which is kind of a weird feeling to have. Basically, I got into this line of work because I really like(d) music and I wanted to be around and talk about it all the time; now, I am liking music less and less and don’t really want to go into any of it anymore because of how political and not-really-about-music-at-all-anymore it has all gotten.

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1 A big part of this sentiment stems from her being absolutely desperate to get out on her own, away from the care (and control) of her parents.

2 For the curious, this online independent-study thing isn’t going very smoothly at all. We’re all struggling with it.

on A New Home

Added on by Taylor Smith.

I have mentioned this elsewhere, but I see that I didn’t say anything here (not that anyone actually reads this thing): I am on sabbatical for the Fall 2023 semester! I need this break from the usual grind, badly, and I am excited to have some time to breathe and “take stock” for a while.

Technically speaking, I have a sabbatical project that I am supposed to be working on during this time. This is the “reason” for my sabbatical leave, to give me time to work on this project that I otherwise wouldn’t have the time to do because I am too busy with my “day job.” But, between you and me, my project is pretty basic and won’t take that much time or effort.1 So, my sabbatical will mostly just involve me spending time seeing where my curiosity take me.

But, the most important part of all of this is that we have a new home for the semester! We moved in about two weeks ago, and we will stay here until mid-December. Our new home is in Santander, Spain.

Santander, Spain from above.


The House

The house we are in is big, bigger than our home in El Cajon. This makes it especially big by semi-urban European standards. We are very lucky in this regard. The house has three bedrooms and five (5!) bathrooms in addition to a large living room / dining room area and bigger-than-usual (again, by European standards) kitchen.

My son was especially excited to not share a bathroom for the first time in his life. :)

The Arrangements

We are here through a home exchange. Basically, we swapped houses with a Spanish family for fourth months. When my wife and I started thinking about applying for this sabbatical, the idea of spending the time abroad was always part of the discussion. We have been thinking about something like this ever since our trip to Europe back in 2019.

There is a website called Sabbatical Homes that many people use to try to find semi-longterm housing for things like sabbaticals. When we got word that my sabbatical was approved, we started looking at this website for ideas about where to go. When you use this site, you can post your house for rent and view rental listings but you can also post your interest in doing a home exchange. I posted our house for rent, contacted a few people about their rentals, but also posted that I was interested in an exchange. In the end, this is what we ended up doing, which might be the easiest way of making all of this happen.

Why Spain? Why Santander?

The short version of why we chose Santander, Spain is that this is where the exchange opportunity presented itself. When I posted on Sabbatical Homes, I listed places we were interested in staying/exchanging; Spain was not on the list. But, this lovely woman named María from Santander contacted me and asked about the possibility of doing an exchange with her family. The more we thought about it, and talked with María, the more it all just made sense.

No hablo español.

I don’t speak much Spanish. Neither do my wife or son. I do speak French close to fluently, but before deciding on coming here, I couldn’t speak more than a few cliché phrases en español. Since we made this decision (back in February or March) I have been doing my best to study Spanish, but you can only get so far with ten minutes a day for a few months. I hope, of course, that by the time we move back home, that I’ll be in a much better place with my Spanish speaking/comprehension.

Our Home

We have been doing our best to try to make this new house feel like “our home,” and, for the most part, we’re doing pretty well. It is still a little weird to realize that this really is our “home”—in all senses of the word—for the next few months. We can’t really redecorate or make any other drastic changes, so whatever “homey-ness” we are going to feel will mostly have to be psychological.



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1 I hope to follow up with more detail on this project at some point, soon.

on Writing

Added on by Taylor Smith.

I don’t write as much as I used to. I wish I did. I enjoy writing (mostly). It helps me clear my head, which is always really crowded. But, I just haven’t been doing it as much lately (and by lately, I mean for the last few years, really).

My last entry, here, was back in December. Of course, I write in other places. I used to be a daily journal writer. In looking at the “calendar” of pervious years of journal entries, I can see several months with daily entries. Now, I see several weeks, sometimes more, without a single entry.

I wish I could come on here and make some sort of commitment … “I am going to write everyday again,” or “I will post something to this blog at least once a week” … but I can’t do that. I don’t want to make any commitments I can’t really, truly keep up. But, I do hope that the next few months will see more writing, more posting, and more trying to be “real” with myself and the world (which is something I find writing helps me do more than most things).

on How My Brain Keeps Me Down

Added on by Taylor Smith.

In general, I have a lot of things on my mind. This is kind of typical for me, for better or worse. I feel like I think about everything, all of the time.1 Sometimes I start to feel claustrophobic inside my head; I can’t find much escape from all of this “everything,” even when I am doing stuff that’s supposed to bring me some quietude. Instead, those quiet times often make “everything” harder to ignore.

I have figured out some ways to deal with this and am mostly able to function more-or-less like everyone else. As far as I know, this might be normal, what I am describing is how everyone is. I asked my wife about this, and she says she is like this—to a point—as well, so I suppose this might be somewhat normal. But, as we were talking, I think she was interpreting this as a difficulty staying “in focus” while doing a task, which is a major part of what I experience, but there is more to it as well. There is a certain amount of my experience that is dominated by unwelcome, persistent thoughts about things from the past and thoughts about other people’s thoughts that I can’t seem to shake.

Past Regrets?

One of the foremost things that intrudes into my head is thoughts about past conversations and interactions. I am almost constantly analyzing previous conversations. I can remember, almost word for word, several semi-contentious conversations, and I think about them over and over and over. Sometimes I think, “I should have said x!” or, “I can’t believe s/he said y!” And I re-litigate the conversation almost daily. Ditto for nearly every other conversation that left me less than satisfied.

Are these regrets of mine? Do I regret something about the conversation? Probably. There are certain ones that come up in my head over and over. I could be riding my bike or playing a gig or surfing, all things completely divorced from said conversation, and in slips my thoughts about what was/wasn’t said, about what that means, about how I am now (or was then) perceived. It’s tiring and it tends to ruin lots of things.

Rent-Free Residents

Right now, and for the last long time, there are a couple of people who seem to be “living rent free inside my head.” In each case, these are people I know, some of them are even “friends,” whom I can’t get out of my head. Right now I am thinking about two guys I know. The way they’ve treated me/talked to me in the semi-recent past (repeatedly) bothers me everyday. I don’t talk to them often, yet my brain brings them into my consciousness several times a day. I can’t help but think “What do they think of me?” “Why did I/they say that thing two years ago?” “How can they have just said that and moved on?” “I wonder if I said x if that would have smoothed things over better?” “But, that thing they said was so pompous and presumptuous!” And on and on.

These guys, ’cause of course they are guys, live in my head, taking up space. I don’t want them there. I want to not care. But the fact is, I do and I think about them all the time. I actually wouldn’t mind just being rid of the blowhards, know-it-alls, holier-than-thous, and other energy sucks, but, again, my head keeps them around seemingly no matter how hard I try.

“Who cares what other people think?”

I know that lots of people are probably saying something like, “Who cares what these other people think? Just live your life.” And I wish I could. I want to be able to do just that, but right now, my brain says over and over, “What about … ?”

To be blunt, I can’t even really fathom how anyone can truly “not care” what other people are thinking. Some of that feels extremely selfish … to not care what is going through other people’s heads seems to suggest that you don’t care anything about other people, their thoughts, their feelings … yet it is also extremely selfish of me to think about me and how they feel about me all the time.

So?

I am not exactly sure where all of this is going. This is the first time in a long time that I am feeling enough clarity to write anything of length. I used to enjoy writing, but I find it hard to find time, energy, and—most of all—the mental acuity to be coherent in a long-form format. It is kind of mind-boggling to me that I once wrote a 300+ page PhD dissertation. I can’t hardly squeak out a few hundred words anymore, even on a good day. Everything is so damn crowded in my head. Everything. All of the time.

  1. Here, I’m alive! ↩︎

on a Challenge From My Daughter (and Her Friends)

Added on by Taylor Smith.

My wife and I were trying to explain some rules around why our daughter (16) can’t take her cellphone into the bathroom with her. To be blunt, one of the reasons is I am not sure she wouldn’t take/send inappropriate pictures. I don’t think she would do this *on purpose*, but she is really gullible and pretty naïve, and I could see a situation wherein she would do something stupid without totally realizing what she as doing.

Anyway, I tried to tell her this, to explain that she is kind of naïve about these things, and that she just doesn’t understand the vagueries around what is and isn’t appropriate/provocative/etc. My wife mentioned a specific photograph she shared on Instagram that, to us, was clearly provocative. To our daughter—because she just doesn’t “get” some of this stuff, yet—it was just a “cute” picture. She told us that all of her friends also said it was not a big deal, that it was “just a cute photo.”

Then, she added this: “And, not all of my friends are that naïve, Dad! Some of them are probably more sexually active than you and mom!” I looked over at my wife and said, “Challenge accepted!”

on 2021

Added on by Taylor Smith.

I kind of want to do some sort of “wrap up” of the last year. It was definitely … something. But, the feeling that I must write something that will incapsulate everything is exactly the sort of thing that would keep me from writing anything at all. To misquote Inigo Montoya, “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. [There is also too much.]” There is so, so much. Everything all of the time. I am overwhelmed.

But, also, everything feels the same. Nothing is different. Everything just keeps going, all of it headed—seemingly—nowhere. I had to read Camus’s La Peste (The Plague) in college, and it turns out he wasn’t all that far off on how pointless anything and everything ends up feeling after a while.

Meanwhile, we’re all bickering and at each other’s throats. The existence of a life-threatening virus. Vaccines. Masks. Election results. Historical events. The shape of the earth. Basic facts are up for debate, and it seems all opinions are being treated as equally plausible. It’s exhausting and I am a little surprised so many of us are still participating in this “dialogue” (notice that I said “us,” meaning I include myself in this criticism).

A Few Things I’ve Learned

All of this being said, there are a few “lessons” I’ve learned this year.

Some People Are Worse Than I Ever Knew Or Thought

I was appalled to see so many people vote for Donald Trump. As most people know, you don’t actually have to “win” the election—in the sense of the words that “win the election” which most of the rest of the world would generally accept—in order to be the President. Donald Trump wasn’t the first President to get the gig this way. Still, the fact that he was even “in the running” was absolutely terrifying, hilarious, and mind-boggling all at once. Then, to know that I personally know so many people who voted for him made to kind of shocked and confused. Still, I think there is some truth to people voting for the person most likely to “move the country” in a direction they like, rather than actually voting for any individual. Basically, “their personal life doesn’t matter; I am voting for [insert pet cause].”1 Personally, I think integrity matters, at least some.2

I, as a lot of people, had hoped that somehow actually being President would change the way Donald Trump acted. We thought he would be “presidential” once all of the campaigning, etc. was over. But, I think we were, mostly, wrong. That’s not a huge surprise, I suppose. But, what I didn’t anticipate, was how having such a crass individual residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave would change people I know. Or, rather, how it would bring what might have been the “real them” lurking somewhere behind a façade, so confidently to the surface.

Since November of 2016, I have observed with a mixture of shock and heartbreak as I have watched people who I once looked up to, people who were mentors and advisors to me as a teenager, people who I thought were good, kind, charitable people turn into absolute monsters. I was raised in a relatively conservative religious environment, which naturally skews pretty reliably “to the right,” politically. I was sad, but not totally shocked, that so many of these people voted for Donald Trump. But, I had thought they did so out of allegiance to some sort of “greater good,” be that a hope for anti-abortion legislation, an aversion to social programs, or other “right leaning” issues. Maybe some did. What I didn’t expect was for these same people, people whom I admired as a kid, to turn into terrible, horrible people once Trump was in office. These folks were suddenly comfortable spouting all sorts of vitriol toward minorities, “the Dems,” Muslims, and whoever else DJT decided was the enemy du jour. These are people I would never have pictured using profanity or using racial/sexual slurs … and yet, I have seen several of them do exactly this on Facebook over the last few years. For some reason, it took me until this year to really come full circle in realizing this. I think the fact that Trump is no longer President and these folks are continuing to act this way might have something to do with me finally making this connection.

So, what I am now wondering is if this is who these folks really are (and always were), or if some sort of transformation has happened. Were these people just waiting for someone like Donald Trump to give them permission to act like assholes? I think there is something about a person in power “setting an example” that might have been the thing that gave these people the permission they needed to act this way. Were these ideas, words, and beliefs always just below the surface waiting for someone to make it “ok” to say, think, or believe them out in the open? Something tells me they were. Or, have these people been sucked into Donald Trump’s cult of personality, and they are, quite literally, not themselves anymore due to his magnetism? Honestly, I am not sure which explanation is better.

Give Us Convenience Or Give Us Death

Another thing I’ve learned along these same lines is just how many people will absolutely insist on notdoing slightly inconvenient things in order to help stave off a literal plague. I can wrap my head around why someone might be against “forced vaccination,” but what’s the big deal about wearing a mask for a few minutes or even hours while you go grocery shopping or fly across a continent?

I have always been a bit of a pessimist, a little bit cynical, a little bit suspicious. The last year has made me more so. Partly in an effort to try to combat this, and partly because I found Utopia For Realists to be very well written, I’ve been reading Rutger Bregman’s Humankind. The central premise of Humankind is that our species is a fundamentally kind one, one that cooperates and generally “gets along.”3 This, in contrast to the way we tend to see ourselves—a species that is fundamentally selfish and in a constant struggle against each other. Bregman uses lots of anthropological data to back this claim. I admire Rutger Bregman quite a bit, and I don’t doubt his research; but, the past year(s) has made it really difficult for me to see people as kind or cooperative when so many aren’t willing to mildly inconvenience themselves for any kind of greater good.4

I Need To Practice A Lot More

This year, I learned that I need to practice everything a lot more. I took classical bass lessons for a few months in the first half of 2021, and I was reminded of how lacking my bass playing is. I need to practice a lot more. I took another French class during the Spring 2021 semester. And, while it went relatively well, I need to practice speaking, reading, and writing in French quite a bit more. I did ok when we were in France this summer, but I would rather be better than just ok.5 I need to practice my sense of calm a lotmore.6 I need to practice being simple rather than complex. I need to practice giving people room to be wrong about things without me feeling the need to “correct” them.

Some Questions

When I sat down to write, I had a few ideas of what I wanted to say, but now that I’ve started, I am thinking of many more. I don’t want to make this particular post drag on, so it seems best to reserve space for future writings about all of that stuff.

But, one thing I am still trying to sort out is how to ask certain questions. I’d like to think that working in a college means I work in a place where I could go to ask tough, thought-provoking questions, but you’d be wrong. In fact, some of my colleagues are the last people I would go to with difficult questions. Far from it being a “safe space,” I am finding academia to be pretty unwelcoming of certain lines of inquiry. This is really frustrating because feeling this way puts me into company with many folks I’d generally like to avoid having by my side (for fear of being confused as sharing their beliefs, among other things). In fact, I am a little scared of the next few semesters. I feel like it’s only a matter of time before things get really gross and/or I walk away … but toward what?

2022

I know new year’s resolutions are kind of silly. I know we’re all setting ourselves up for disappointment and/or failure by setting big goals at an arbitrary time. Still, I like the idea of sitting down and thinking about what and where we want to be and what and where we don’t couples with some reflection on howwe might get there. Every failed goal is still movement toward something, which isn’t so terrible. 

I haven’t put a ton of thought into what my goals/resolutions might be for this year, yet. But, here are a few:

  1. No more soda. Or, more specifically, no more sweetened sodas (“diet” sodas included). I am one of those weird people that prefers sparkling water when it’s available; I am counting that as “soda.”

  2. Some sort of exercise most days. What counts as exercise will be a pretty low bar: any sort of movement that lasts more than ten minutes will work.

  3. More practicing. As a musician, this is supposed to be part of my lifestyle, but it hasn’t been for a long time.

  4. More writing. I want to write something most days, even just a few sentences.

Of course, it’s likely none of this will mean anything in a few months.

  1. This gets harder to believe when the same people will rail against certain individuals’ personal lives. Clinton’s and Kennedy’s philandering or Quayle’s spelling skills come to mind. ↩︎

  2. I say “some,” because all of us have lapses in our integrity and none of us are probably really “worthy” for any sort of Integrity Olympics. ↩︎

  3. Bregman actually uses the description “Homo puppy” to describe our species. ↩︎

  4. And/or, will accuse those that are honestly trying to do something that might be helpful of being “ignorant sheep” or claim it’s all “virtue signaling.” ↩︎

  5. My study/practice of Dutch took a bit of a backseat once I got “into the thick of things” with my French class. ↩︎

  6. A lot more. ↩︎

Fall 2021 Rock, Pop, and Soul Ensemble Concert

Added on by Taylor Smith.

I direct the Rock, Pop, and Soul Ensemble at Cuyamaca College. It’s probably my favorite class ever. We had our Fall 2021 concert last week. This was our first concert since 2019. It was nice to be able to play and sing in person. I don’t think many people realize how awful the whole music-ensembles-online thing is.

Anyway, here’s a video of the show. There are some sketchy moments, spots where I wonder what the students were up to, but there are also lots of moments that are great. Enjoy!

on What I Keep Thinking About

Added on by Taylor Smith.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, recently. Actually, I am pretty always thinking about everything all of the time.1 But, recently, I’ve been wondering where, how, and when all of this will end. Where is the point at which this all breaks?

COVID at My House

Twelve days ago, my daughter (16) tested positive for COVID. She started feeling sick on Saturday; we took her in to get tested on Sunday. The (positive) results came back by the late-morning on Monday. This was a surprise as all of us are fully vaccinated.2 Once she tested positive, the rest of us quickly got tested to see if we, too, were infected. Luckily, all of our tests came back negative. But, within a day or two, my wife started feeling sick, and decided to get tested again … positive this time.3 So, my wife moved into my daughter’s bedroom on Thursday of last week, and the two have been in there ever since. My daughter’s quarantine period ended yesterday. My wife is still locked away until Sunday.4

Shortly after finding out about my wife’s diagnosis, I went on to Facebook and threw a bit of a fit. I said something about how I felt this was entirely the refuse-to-be-vaccinated people’s fault, that I didn’t care about their reasons for being so insistent upon not getting vaccinated. Again, I don’t entirely regret what I said, though I could have been more artful in the way I framed it.5 A few people tried to call me out for casting such a wide aspersion, and some were right, but I was tired and frustrated and I feel like we’re all allowed to be pissed off and extra-salty from time to time.

What options do we have?

Also, I am not sure I was completely out of line, honestly. My delivery was certainly less than ideal, but the kernels behind what I was getting at are real.

Firstly, it’s important that we all understand how vaccines work, how all vaccines work. Vaccines don’t make it impossible to catch any given illness, but they do reduce the chances … usually by quite a lot. Even more importantly, vaccines are designed to be a communal solution; they are most effective when everyone has been inoculated against said illness. This is why it is recommended (even required) to be re-vaccinated against some diseases when you visit certain developing countries; in that part of the world, most people aren’t vaccinated against the disease, so your likelihood of contracting it—despite your vaccination—goes up quite a bit. So, for every unvaccinated person walking around amongst us, my inoculation against COVID-19 becomes less effective. This doesn’t mean the vaccine doesn’t work. This is how all vaccines work!

Secondly, there’s the “individual.” The more I have thought about this, the more I am convinced that the idea of an “individual” is a myth. I have a few reasons for this belief, but it mostly stems from the fact that none of us live isolated from those around us. Our actions affect others. Full stop.6 Thus, any discussion about “individual rights” might be shakier than we tend to think.

Thirdly, what are we supposed to do when a path forward is presented and a sizable enough chunk of the population refuses to follow it? According to most of the commentary I have seen, it crosses lines to require folks to get vaccinated through legislation and we can’t require it through commerce (some sort of vaccine “passport,” without which one couldn’t participate in much of society). I saw a video of Rand Paul (someone whose opinion I generally don’t care to hear, but for the sake of argument, I’ll tack it on, here) telling us all to try “persuasion” instead of “coercion,” but what are we left with after that fails (and we can’t “force” the issue, for a variety of reasons [see above])? All we are really left with, it seems, is public mockery and shaming of those that are obstinate in their refusal to be responsible. In fact, this is precisely what my Libertarian/anarcho-capitalist “friends” say is the answer to virtually every societal ills—through social pressure we can make life unbearably inconvenient for scofflaws … this will work more effectively than legislation, they say. But, when I do just this, try to publicly shame the anti-vaccine crowd, I am called to repentance for not showing empathy.

Fourthly, yes, we should all have more empathy. But, insisting that the rest of the world continue to wait for you to come around, is asking quite a lot. You can’t get all that upset when we all decide we’ve lost our patience and we’re “done” waiting. Life very much could go back to normal if enough people would get on board, yet, here we are, still struggling to keep our heads above water despite there being a perfectly good boat within sight.

A Breaking Point?

Growing up Mormon, I would hear lots of talk about a time when the US Constitution would “hang by a thread” and some Mormon guy would swoop in and save everything. I always found this folklore-doctrine to be kind of funny. I don’t think that particular scenario is likely, but, I am curious when, how, why this will all end. It all seems like everything is pretty rickety at the moment. Has this pandemic infected our brains as well?

The Greeks’ experiments with democracy only lasted about 200 years. Will the US’s “experiment” with democracy last any longer?7

  1. Here, I’m alive! ↩︎

  2. I know the vaccine is not a “guarantee” that you won’t get infected. But, I certainly didn’t think we would be one of the “breakthrough cases” we hear about. ↩︎

  3. It is likely the first round of tests we all took was too soon. The CDC recommends waiting 5–7 after exposer to get tested. But when you live with the infected party, it’s hard to know exactly who you were “exposed.” ↩︎

  4. After my wife’s positive test, my son and I tested again; still negative. ↩︎

  5. The fact is, I was pissed, and I simply didn’t care around who I threw a net of “blame” in the process. ↩︎

  6. This is the root of where most (all?) of my disagreements with “Libertarians,” “anarcho-capitalists,” and other much-futher-to-the-right-than-me political philosophies lies. So much of that worldview depends upon an insistence upon “individualism,” and I simply don’t think that exists. ↩︎

  7. Cue the guy who will tell us something about how the US isn’t really a democracy, but a democratic republic. ↩︎

on Slowly

Added on by Taylor Smith.

I haven’t been perfect in my efforts to stay away from traditional social media. I have made more posts than I should have, and have read many more than anyone should since I made the decision to step back a bit. I have been better, though, which is … better. 

In the last few days, I have been especially active on Facebook, which I don’t really like. Both my wife and my daughter tested positive for COVID last week. I am not happy about this at all, and I used Facebook to let the world know. I don’t totally regret doing that. Sometimes misery-outrage loves company, and traditional social media is definitely a place you can find misery-outrage.

I have found something in the social media “space” that I think is pretty great, though. Slowly. Slowly is kind of like a social network in that it is a place to meet people and exchange messages. But, it’s very different from the others in that it forces you to be patient. Instead of your friends getting your message(s) immediately, they have to wait, sometimes more than a day, to read your message. The idea is that you have to wait for each message to go “through the mail;” the farther the message has to travel “geographically,” the longer the delay in delivery.

Slowly tries to be something like a traditional pen pal, including some stamp-collecting features. Slowly will auto match you with folks all across the world or you can browse a directory and find interesting people on your own. It’s a nice concept, and the community there is friendly, patient, and almost entirely wonderful … unlike so many other places.

Have I been a perfect digital citizen? Not even close. My most-recent Facebook post was pretty nasty.1 But, something like Slowly might help me (and/or you) to be a little better. I have been using it for several months, and it’s been pretty great so far. I have “friends” in the US, India, France, Benin, Estonia, Poland, Canada, the Philippines, Russia, and the U.K, writing back and forth in both English and French.

  1. At the moment, I still don’t really care all that much. I am not in a place to feel lots of nice thoughts toward the situation my family is in at the moment (and the fact that it was largely avoidable).

on Musicology (Again)

Added on by Taylor Smith.

Me, a Musicologist

Supposedly, I am a musicologist. I have a fancy (and expensive!) degree that says I am. I took a bunch of classes and wrote a few hundred pages in order to check off the box that lets me insist upon people calling me “doctor” (which I don’t do, but I work with some people that do, and I think it’s kind of silly). In 2015 I earned a PhD in musicology. Before that, I earned an MA in music (with an emphasis in historical performance practice). Both of those things supposedly make me “an expert” in this weird field that some people think I made up (“What is ‘musicology’ anyway?”).

But, I have yet to do anything—save the degrees of course—that really qualifies me as a “musicologist.” Certainly my crappy attempts at album reviews and occasional semi-witty musical commentary ’round here shouldn’t really qualify.

To come back to the question, “What does a ‘musicologist’ do?” The answer is not incredibly straightforward. The easiest answer is to say, they study, write about, and speak about music from a cultural/historical/philosophical standpoint, though this leaves several things out (and doesn’t even really say anything anyway). But, a sizable portion of what I am “supposed to” do as “a musicologist” is to write and speak about music. Most of us make our primary incomes as college professors, and the ones who teach at fancier places than I are often required to publish in journals regularly.

I haven’t published anything. I also don’t really care that I haven’t published anything. Each time I open a new edition of the Journal of the American Musicological Society or the Journal of Musicological Research or whatever other fancy academic journal one wants to name, I am mostly kind of baffled. I see these titles and I have virtually no idea what these articles are about. Even the ones that are ostensibly more “up my alley,” like Rock Music Studies, publish stuff that I only barely recognize; sometimes I wonder if I am actually subscribed to a molecular biology journal or something … some of these titles feel that foreign.

Me, a Speaker

What bit of musicologizing I have done is speak at a handful of conferences. I generally enjoy this, which is a little strange because I am actually quite shy much of the time. In fact, speaking at one of these conferences over the summer is what restarted me questioning nearly all of my life choices up to this point … Well, save my marriage. The conference didn’t make me wonder about that one.

Essentially, I made a presentation at a high-profile conference sponsored by one of the more prominent organizations in the world of popular music education and afterward I was kind of bummed out by the whole thing. From my side, I think it went fine. But, I got some pushback from the audience. Pushback is fine, it’s to be expected at least somewhat. But, the nature of the pushback has me feeling kind of lost.

My presentation was about my popular music ensemble and how I, as a “band director,” approach it. My premise was this: we should treat the popular music ensemble the same way we treat a college orchestra or choir; we should get the group to play the “great works” written for it (just like a choir or orchestra does). I have given this presentation once before, then for a different crowd; it was very well received (I think). And, to say that this time was not well received on the whole would probably be inaccurate. But, it’s the pushback—and the social-political-musicological situation(s) behind it, most of all—that has brought to this place where I feel kind of lost and confused.

This pushback cut at the central premise of my presentation; there were questions around the idea of “great works” and around my place as the one who chooses the group’s repertoire.

The second issue doesn’t bother me quite so much. The contention was, basically, “Why not let the students pick what they play?” My response is two fold: 

What I am there for if not to “direct” the group (and thereby, choose what “directions” the group will go [i.e. what music we will play])? I am fine with taking input from the students, but that is pretty clearly not what this comment was about. He was after something different. It’s hard to explain to those outside academia, but, basically, there is this whole movement in higher ed (wrapped up inside ideas like “equity”) that says everything should be student-directed, even things like the actual curriculum. But, yeah, if the proper thing to do is just let the students do whatever the hell they want, why am I there? If their opinion is just as valid as mine, then why hire me? Why offer the class?

Isn’t part of the point of going to college the exposure to new ideas, new ways of looking at [insert topic here]? If I let my students call the shots on what we play, they would end up playing more or less the same stuff every semester. ‘Twould be a mixture of Led Zeppelin songs, Taylor Swift and/or Billie Eilish songs, and a few tunes by whatever rapper du jour happens to be “it,” then. Again, the students don’t need to go to college to do that stuff. I will grant that some of what they would choose is very valid, and we should explore some of that, but my experience shows that it’d be an endless cycle of the same-old after a few times around.

But it was this first line of questioning that had/has me feeling all sorts of confusion and general pessimism for where this is all headed. The basic premise of this person’s commentary was against the idea of there being “Great Works” at all. Or, more pointedly, is it ever appropriate to draw a line in the sand, so to speak, saying “this is great art” because, in so doing, you are excluding other works, and in doing that, you are making judgements about any given style’s/work’s/culture’s central aesthetics as being of less validity. That was kind of a mouthful. Maybe this is better: to say there are “Great Works” is to make decisions about what is and isn’t good in art, which necessarily weighs certain ideas over others. 

Perhaps explaining the flow of ideas within my presentation will help me explain what all of this is about:

  • Many colleges have now decided that they want to take the academic study of popular music seriously (yay!)

  • With this, many of these schools have added popular music ensembles into their programs

  • But, what should these groups play/sing?

  • Well, what do the other ensembles play/sing?

  • They play/sing the “Great Works” written for those ensembles.

  • Maybe pop-music ensembles should do something similar.

  • But, what would that look like?

  • A: One way to go is to play the “great” albums in popular music history.

So, the central idea I was trying to get at was a discussion of my experience with implementing this “great works”/whole albums approach in my college’s popular music ensemble, and, to a lesser degree, a “defense” of this approach.1

Being that the conference was held via Zoom, I was able to go back and listen to it—and the ensuing commentary—again. So, I watched it again to see if I was remembering things correctly. The comment that still has me both scratching my head and kind of nervous about what all of this might mean for my future in this field, pushed back against my premise pretty hard. And, again, this has more to do with the nature of the pushback, the things it signaled, than the commentary itself. 

This person questioned the premise of the world of art music as a framework through which to look at popular music.

So far, this is ok; it’s not a perfect lens. I do think it’s useful, though, especially given the context of having a popular music ensemble exist alongside an orchestra, choir, etc., competing for “validity.” 

The premise of there being a “standard repertoire” or a “canon” is not a good one; it’s something we should be shunning, not building upon. (While the words “privilege” and/or “racism” weren’t used directly, this was clearly the implication.) 

Again, it’s far from perfect, but it’s the literal foundation of hundreds of years of our musical study and understanding. Everything builds on stuff before it. It would be a mistake to assume there is nothing connecting Mozart and Kanye West. Let’s include Kanye’s music in the conversation, but not at the expense of Mozart’s.

A criticism was made that the list of albums I’ve tackled with this group wasn’t sufficiently diverse. More specifically, the commenter pointed out that there was only “X” albums by people of color.

This is valid, to a point. I go out of my way—fighting against some of my own upbringing and musical biases—to make sure to perform works by black artists, female artists, and other less-represented groups. But, I wonder what percentage of representation would be the right one; is there a point where I could arrive at the “right” percentage of music by people of color?

I keep coming back to a few central questions/problems with these comments. More importantly, these comments were exactly on track with the contemporary currents within musicology (and academia in general), and they got me thinking in all sorts of directions about where this is headed.

  1. If we can’t really call any music “good” or “great,” does that make it all equal in its artistic/cultural/historical value? Do we want that?

  2. I have spent most of my life just trying to understand a few styles of music and I am still just scratching the surface. If the only valid way to examine or talk about music is to always do so from all angles equally, how could we ever get close to any sort of expertise over any of it?

  3. I am worried about how quick we are to call everything racist. And, I hate to even say this as this aligns me (on the surface, at least) with lots of people who really are racist.

  4. I am losing interest in this entire field (musicology) as it seems this is the only thing we’re allowed to talk about right now. And, again, I think some would say this make me racist as well.

  5. I have always been a bit of a contrarian. I am sure many of my previous professors would tell you as much. But, now I am finding myself feeling like defending the “status quo” (sort of), which feels weird.

  6. An idea that came up in some follow up discussion was the idea that we should be able to alter these “great works” however we see fit. We shouldn’t look at them as “great” as is, but as infinitely alterable based upon however we feel at any moment. This seems like a strange way of thinking about art. This seems to fundamentally confuse the artist and the audience, which I think leads us to a place where art isn’t really worth admiring anymore. Is this really the world we want to create? (In other cultures this is more appropriate, but those are not the cultures where this music was made. Insisting that a different culture’s way of doing things should be applied to this music seems like the opposite of what we’re supposed to do.)

All of this is my very long way of saying I am feeling really uncomfortable inside “academia” these days. The trouble is, I’ve painted myself into a bit of a corner; there isn’t much else I can really do for a career. So, now what?

This conference came at a time when I was already feeling kind of bewildered about who I am and what I do; this interaction made all of those feelings even stronger. I want to call Brian Wilson’s music “great,” I want to call Palestrina’s music “beautiful,” but it seems like these comments might land me somewhere in the realm of “problematic.” No one wants to be problematic.

  1. No idea if this explanation made anything clearer or not. ↩︎

an Update

Added on by Taylor Smith.

It has been a long time since I have written much, here or otherwise. I used to find writing to be kind of cathartic, even stimulating, but I’ve been struggling a lot lately. The fact is, just about everything is difficult right now, and I’ve been having a hard time finding even small escapes.

But right now, I am feeling a bit of interest in writing, so I want to grab that while it’s here.

A lot has happened since I last posted anything ‘round here. My family spent 17 days in Europe. My kids went back to school … in person … all day … five days a week. I am teaching (almost) entirely in person again. I bought a cool new (custom!) surfboard. I spoke at a high-profile music conference1. Probably more that I’ll think of after I publish this.

on Approaching 40

I’ll be forty years old in about six months. It’s always a little funny to think back on what you thought of certain ages when you were younger. Like, what did I think 40-year-olds were like when I was 15? Something tells me I probably thought they were older than I feel like I am … though I am feeling pretty old these days.

What I didn’t really anticipate about this point in my life is the restlessness and disillusionment I’ve been feeling. Some of this started shortly after finishing my PhD program back in 2015. Up until that point there was always something else to look toward, a “next move” in my life, career, etc. But, once my dissertation was officially accepted and I had my doctoral degree in my hands, that was the end of the road, so to speak. By that point, I had already been working as a tenured Associate Professor for a few years, which left me with very few “next step” options. 

I don’t at all think I need to be constantly “progressing.” In fact, I have a lot of bones to pick with the worldview that says we should be continually growing economically, and I think this mindset seeps into our heads too much, making us think that we’re supposed to do that too.2 But, I am feeling certain unfamiliar pangs as I navigate this plateau. We have all heard about the “midlife crisis,” but I don’t think that’s what this is. This is something more like suddenly being without a map … never mind the fact that I am probably too young to be having the proverbial “midlife crisis.” I suppose this might be what many people feel shortly after graduating from high school or college, when the world presents them with hundreds of options as to what to do. Maybe it’s simply taken me until 39 to “grow up” and experience “real life” in this way. 

Anyway, this feeling of “now what?” has been in the back of my mind since 2016, and it keeps poking its head into my more conscious mind. Right now, this feeling is extra present. There are a few things that have been festering which I think are part of its resurgence.3

So, here I am, 39.5 years old, and I have virtually no idea what to do when I grow up.

  1. And I had a bit of a “bummer” experience. More, soon (I hope). ↩︎

  2. Never mind that this is impossible. ↩︎

  3. More on this, later. ↩︎